September 6, 1991
Draco hadn't stopped beaming all morning. Today was their first day of potions. It was the class he had been most looking forward to, and since his godfather was the teacher it was obviously the best one. Ivy hadn't been excited about it at all at first, which Draco did not understand one bit. He had asked her why, and she had asked, "Isn't it a bit like cooking?"
He had sputtered and said that of course it wasn't, and then for some reason, she had seemed much happier about their upcoming class. Draco wasn't sure what cooking had to do with anything, or why she would have thought potions were in any way similar (as if he would like anything that resembled something as tedious as cooking), but she seemed to have finally realized that potions were the best, so he was satisfied.
Ivy went over the things she knew about potions in her head. Henry claimed to not be very good at potions, but he had taught her a few things. Most of all, though, he had drilled into her mind three facts that he said were very important to know about potions. She wasn't quite sure why, and when she had asked he hadn't been able to come up with a good response, only saying that it was very important that she knew those three things. So, being the perfect little angel of chaos that she was, she diligently recited the answers to herself all the way to potions class.
Upon arrival in the dungeon classroom, Pansy immediately claimed the seat by Draco, so Ivy sat down next to Neville and began asking how he liked the book she had lent him. At first, he had been shy and slow to respond, but upon seeing that Ivy was genuine in her question he seemed to calm down and they began discussing a few of the more vicious of the vines in the book. Ivy was impressed that Neville had read so much of it already. Sure, learning about deadly plants was awesome, but still it had taken her like a month to read that book and here he had had it for a few days and was almost finished. And he remembered little details about nearly every single one.
Once Professor Snape entered the room, however, the noise quieted to the point where you could have heard a fly sneeze. Which turned out to be a good thing, since the professor was speaking barely above a whisper.
"Potter!" Even though she had been paying close attention Ivy was still a little startled at the sudden calling of her name.
"Yes, Professor?"
"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Oh, this was perfect. Just what she had been mentally reciting. "Draught of Living Death, sir."
The only indication of the professor's surprise was a slight raising of one eyebrow. "And where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Two for two. This was going great. Ivy guessed that maybe Henry really did know what he was talking about. "The stomach of a goat, sir."
Professor Snape gave an almost imperceptible nod, then dropped his voice to its previous volume and asked, "And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Three for three. How had Henry known she would need to know this? Had he been asked these same questions? That would make sense. Was this the standard potions introduction then? "It's the same plant, sir, also called aconite."
Professor Snape looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Very good. Five points to Slytherin."
Ivy heard a small huff to her left but didn't too closely at who had made it. Her professor was still looking her in the eye.
"Tell me, Potter, where did you learn the answers to those questions?"
Ivy was slightly confused, because weren't these things she was supposed to know and remember and FOR MERLIN'S SAKE DON'T EVER FORGET? At least that's how Henry had made it seem.
"My uncle told me I needed to learn those things, and make sure I didn't forget the answers."
Professor Snape looked shocked for a moment, but quickly recovered and said, "Your…uncle? And what, pray tell, did your uncle teach you about potions?"
"Oh not much, sir. He said he wasn't very good at it and that I would be much better off just waiting until I came here so I could learn from someone who actually knew what they were doing. He just taught me those three questions and told me to remember the answers."
The professor paled a bit, though it went unnoticed by the majority of the students. "And what is your uncle's name?" he asked softly.
"Henry Peverell."
Snape paled further, though thankfully for him most of the eleven year olds currently occupying the room were unable to recognize any change.
The lesson proceeded as normal after that. Well, as close to normal as Ivy assumed it was likely to be. This was her first potions lesson, after all, so she didn't have much to compare it to.
Things were going fairly well, until a boy behind him had a cauldron blow up, and Neville stuck something in their cauldron that must not have been right, because theirs started melting and spewing something that looked not at all like what the description on the board said. The Professor was there in an instant, berating both boys and then Ivy for…something. Ivy wasn't really paying attention. She was much more focused on trying to avoid the spilled potion mishap that seemed determined to eat whatever it touched.
"-ter. POTTER ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?"
Ivy jerked her head up at that. She hadn't been listening, but somehow it didn't seem wise to tell her teacher that.
Professor Snape kept going, and she stopped paying attention again, though she did manage to catch the last part.
"-be you should have been in Hufflepuff. I…"
"That's what I said!" Ivy blurted out, interrupting whatever else Professor Snape was about to yell say.
He stopped mid-rant, and just stared at her unblinking. She vaguely noticed that the rest of the room was looking at her, minus Neville who was whimpering at the boils covering his face and hand.
After what seemed to be an unnecessarily long time for everyone to keep staring at her, Professor Snape took a deep breath, like Henry did sometimes when his eye had twitched too much and he needed some other way of expressing emotion, and said, "Potter, take Longbottom to the hospital wing. NOW."
Ivy glanced briefly at Draco, who just shrugged, then grabbed Neville's unhurt hand and her things, leaving a still silent group of students staring at them as they exited.
Well at least potions had been interesting. It beat out History of Magic for sure.
September 12, 1991
Today was going to be the best day. Today was the first flying lesson of the year. Henry had already taught Ivy how to fly, of course. It was part of his ongoing attempt to prove how awesome quidditch was. It wasn't that Ivy hated it or anything, she just wasn't that into it. Henry assured her that it was just a temporary apathy towards the sport and that she was sure to enjoy it once she got to Hogwarts. Regardless, Ivy did love flying, and today was her first chance to do that since she had arrived at school.
Draco had been complaining for four days now about how unfair it was that first years weren't allowed brooms of their own. Even Pansy had seemed to be annoyed at him. Even Greg and Vincent seemed annoyed at this point, and in the twelve days, Ivy had known them they hadn't so much as twitched an eye at anything. Finally, taking pity on the entirety of Hogwarts, Ivy asked Draco, "Well if first years aren't allowed a broom, maybe it's for a reason? Maybe someone died or something. Or maybe something else horrible happened and now they're being cautious so no one gets hurt."
That had shut Draco up for a single afternoon until he had gone on an impulsive library research spree and discovered that the reason behind the ban on brooms was actually a bunch of first years a couple of decades back who had brought brooms to school, tried to go for a leisurely fly around the lake, and then ended up in the lake because none of them knew how to fly properly. Apparently, the giant squid in the lake had been involved somehow. Ivy kind of tuned it out as soon as Draco launched back into his rant about the unfairness of the rule.
But today was flying day, so Draco would hopefully be happy about that as much as she was. It was also just as likely that he would spend the entire lesson complaining about the quality of the brooms they were using or something as equally pointless as that, but Ivy was an optimistic person. The fact that Fred and George had already complained about the school brooms did nothing to dampen that optimism.
Well, this was going…not well. This was not going well. Somehow poor Neville had lost control of his broom, fallen, broken his wrist, and was now being escorted to the hospital wing for the second time in a week. Then Draco had picked up the funny looking ball Neville had dropped, and suddenly the situation had deteriorated into a shouting match. It was, to some extent, Slytherin against Gryffindor, but there was mostly just a lot of shouting. Finally, Draco had mounted his broom, taunting the kid Ivy was 97 percent sure was Fred and George's little brother, and saying that he should see if he could catch the remember…something. Ivy wasn't quite sure about that last part.
Deciding that enough was enough and that this probably counted as one of those acceptable times to use spells on people (Henry had said when she was hurt or about to be hurt, someone else was about to be hurt, or people were being idiots), she waved her wand in Draco's direction and the ball flew into her hand.
Suddenly she was reminded in a not-quite-so-pleasant way of potions the previous week. Everyone got quiet and turned to stare at her. Even Draco was looking at her with his mouth slightly open.
"How did you do that?" Draco asked incredulously.
"Umm…magic?" Honestly. They were at a magic school where they were learning magic. Why was anyone surprised by that? They had been going to the same classes as her. At least she was pretty sure. There was one kid that looked unfamiliar but to be fair she hadn't even been there two weeks. She didn't know everyone. Yet.
One of the Gryffindor girls spoke up. "Well, what spell was that?"
"Spell?" What did she mean by the spell?
"Yes." The girl sounded frustrated. "What spell did you use?"
"I didn't?"
"Well, you had to have done something. Just waving around doesn't do anything and we don't know nonverbal spells yet."
Ivy went to reply that no, she really hadn't used a spell, just had thought what she wanted to happen and aimed her wand in the general direction. It wasn't like she had done anything exciting. But Pansy cut in with something that was most likely an insult if you went off the offended looks on some of the Gryffindor's faces and the pleased looks on some of the Slytherins, and the shouting resumed.
Ivy ignored her fellow students as they descended into yet another shouting match, choosing instead to take a closer look at the oddball she was holding that everyone seemed so interested in. She'd make sure she gave it back to Neville when she visited him in the hospital wing.
Ivy didn't get a chance to visit Neville in the hospital wing at all, since by the time she had gone he had already been released. She gave him his ball back, which he accepted gratefully, then they entered the great hall for dinner together, only to find Draco and the yes-that's-definitely-Weasley boy ("Ron," Neville whispered helpfully) glaring each other down as best as can be done by eleven year olds. Seeing the newest arrivals, Ron quickly grabbed Neville by the arm, leading him over to the Gryffindor table while saying he had to talk to him, and Draco stomped walked gracefully and with great poise to the Slytherin table, Ivy following in his wake and rolling her eyes. Apparently, the argument hadn't ended during the flying lesson. Oh well. It was dinnertime, and Ivy was determined to eventually realize her goal of getting Draco to eat enough that he wouldn't be so grumpy.
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